


Appreciate the ambiance

by larchwood



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cute meet, M/M, Massages, Nickels - Freeform, POV Nick, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larchwood/pseuds/larchwood
Summary: Nick got injured on the job.  Time to go to Abbott Sports Medicine Facility for a treatment.





	Appreciate the ambiance

“Hand me the Bernstein file, would ya?”

Nick stretched over his desk to hand it over, but the pain in his shoulder flared at the motion, making him hiss.

Hagan focused on his partner at the noise, seeing the glaze of pain in Nick’s eyes as he gingerly tried to rotate the shoulder joint.  “Hey, pal - are you still hurting from that take down yesterday?”

Nick just grunted, the ‘no shit, Sherlock,’ going  unsaid.

Hagan rolled his eyes.  “Please go do something about that.  I can hear you grinding your teeth from here.  At this rate you’ll need dentures before you turn 40.”

“Ha, fucking, ha.  I iced it last night and made questionable decisions with the amount of ibuprofen and alcohol I ingested.  What else would you suggest, Dr. Hagan?”

Hagan started rummaging around his desk drawers.  “I know I saw it in here last week,” he muttered. Nick just watched him blankly, the pain making him zone out a little.  Hagan made a triumphant “A-ha!” before brandishing a brochure in Nick’s direction, nearly hitting him in the nose.

The loud noise and flurry of movement startled Nick, who flailed before clutching his shoulder again.  “You did that on purpose, asshole!” Hagan smirked at him while placing the brochure on Nick’s desk. “Yep,” he said, popping the “P.”

Nick looked at the cover of the brochure, but didn’t bother to open it up.  “So, whoo-who, you found a piece of paper. And I care about this, why?”

“Dr. Hagan is prescribing a treatment at the Abbott Sports Medicine Facility,”  he looked pretty pleased with himself to be continuing the doctor analogy. “Don’t you remember the last HR training?  One of our new benefits is an arrangement to get treatment with athletic trainers to help with shit like this.” He waved vaguely at Nick’s everything.  “You just gotta have Captain Branson sign off on the paperwork, and you get like - I dunno - 3 sessions per incident, quarter, year. Whatever.”

 Nick glanced listlessly at the brochure.  He was a decorated Marine, dammit. He survived bullet holes and explosions.  Some little crimp in his shoulder wasn’t going to slow him down. Just gonna take it easy over the weekend and it’ll be fine by Monday.

 It was not, however, fine by Monday.

 Putting on a dress shirt had been bad enough.  The throbbing in his shoulder never seemed to go away.  While copious amounts of booze had dulled the pain over the weekend, Nick knew he needed a better plan.

 Hagan took one look at him and then made obnoxiously exaggerated teeth grinding faces at him  for the next hour. Nick just sighed heavily before trudging reluctantly into Captain Branson’s office.

 Captain Branson finished signing some paperwork before looking up at Nick.  “O’Flaherty? You okay, son? You don’t look like your normal self,” the genuine concern obvious in his voice.

 Nick felt himself trying to snap to attention like a Marine in the presence of a superior officer.  It galled him to show any weakness. “Not really, Sir. That take down on Thursday really did a number on my shoulder.  I was hoping it would clear up by now, but so far it hasn’t. Hagan mentioned some sort of sports medicine program I could be eligible for?”

 Branson huffed.  “You didn’t pay any attention at the last HR training, did you?”  Nick just looked at him sheepishly.

 "I'm going to make a call and see if we can get you in ASAP.  Not only because I need you at 100%, but it’s just painful to look at you.”

 Nick smiled weakly before muttering, “Thank you, Sir,” and headed back to his desk.

 

……

  


Nick just stared at the sign on the glass door.  

 

“Seriously?  You gotta be fucking kidding me.”  He hadn’t really noticed the name or type of business which shared the same building when he had pulled into the parking lot.  His gait slowed as he got closer.

 

“Fuck me.”

 He opened the front door to the spa with the air of a man wishing he was invisible.  The decor of the entry was an explosion of rhinestones, pink leopard prints, oversized sunflowers and daisies, and designer (?) handbags.  The music wafting through the speakers was some sort of contemporary hybrid of country music and rap.

 He was just starting to back out of the door when the receptionist called out to him, “Welcome to Effervescence Day Spa and Salon!  How can we serve you today?”

 Nick’s eyes widen slightly at the question, immediately thinking of all the wrong ways that question could be interpreted.  Jesus, was this place on Vice’s list of illegal sex shops?

 He cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me, m’am.  But I was looking for a Kelly Abbott of Abbott Sports Medicine?  I have an appointment with her now, and I just saw the sign on her door.”

 The receptionist gave him a funny look, then laughed merrily.  Nick just stood there awkwardly. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me,” she said, once she took a deep breath.  “Kelly is a guy. Wait right here and I’ll go get him for you.”

 A guy? Nick thought.  Captain Branson never said and he had just assumed.  So much for being an impartial police detective.

 Thankfully, before any more ‘bro-country’ songs came over the speakers, the receptionist returned with a guy, dressed in a snug-fitting white t-shirt that had a “Abbott Sports Medicine” logo over his left pec, and a pair of black track pants and running shoes.  

 “Detective O’Flaherty?  I’m Kelly Abbott,” he said as he extended his hand for a shake.  “Thanks for being flexible about the location.”

 “No, no, thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Nick replied as he shook his hand.  The handshake lingered as they sized each other up. As both a Marine and a cop, Nick was used to assessing random strangers for potential threats.  Kelly was shorter than himself, but with an obviously fit and compact body that spoke of a career in fitness. He might have lingered a little over the veins and muscles of his arms, and trying to determine the color of his eyes.  All for professional reasons, of course. He assumed that Kelly’s up and down glance was for professional reasons as well.

 “Follow me, and we can go over the paperwork and your medical history before we get started,” Kelly said, leading him up to the second floor.

 The second floor really kind of looked like a cave, albeit a well furnished one.  Several couches were grouped into a sitting each with more flowers, bric a brac, and throw pillows scattered throughout.  The curtains were drawn and the lighting was barely addressed with a single 40 watt bulb in a lamp in the corner.

 Kelly gestured to him to have a seat while he opened the drapes and turned on the over head light.  He grabbed a clip board with some paperwork on it and put on a pair of black rimmed reading glasses he pulled from his pants pocket.

 “Excuse the decor,” he said as he searched for a pen in on of the side table drawers.  “Serena, the owner of the spa, thinks it’s soothing to have a low-lit atmosphere for the massages and facials.  We share this building. There’s some overlap to our services, so it makes it convenient for ordering supplies if we go in together.  Plus, if she gets a client for a massage that’s got particular needs or has a larger body frame, me or one of my employees can step in.”

 “Now,” he said as he sat down across from Nick.  “Let’s talk about you.” Again, Nick was distracted by Kelly’s eyes - particularly in the reading glasses.  The guy was giving off a sort of combination ‘hot jock/nerd’ vibe. Be he was looking at him expectantly, so he mentally shook himself and concentrated on the questions.

 Kelly read through the intake form, pausing to write down Nick’s answers.  One eyebrow shot up at Nick’s answer to “Any broken bones/which ones?” but he never hesitated as he filled out the form.  Nick appreciated his reticence by not prying into ancient history.

 The shrapnel in his thigh did warrant a reaction.  “Uh, shrapnel? That’s not your run of the mill police injury, is it?”  Nick sat up a little straighter, the habit of standing at attention still never far away.  “I served 3 tours as a Marine. Recon, actually.”

 Kelly’s eyes warmed as he gave him a little salute.  “Recon, huh?” I did a couple myself as a Devil Doc. I thought you looked the type.”  Nick gave him a fist bump and an “Oorah,” in response.

 The talk turned to Nick’s injury.  As a homicide detective, Nick didn’t usually face the rough and tumble life of a beat cop.  But on Thursday, a routine interview turned into a foot chase through Boston. Nick took him down eventually, but in trying to turn the corner of an apartment building, he had slammed his shoulder HARD into the concrete corner.  An EMT had looked him over at the scene. It wasn’t actually dislocated, but it was bruised like hell and he had limited mobility, even four days later.

 ” Kelly said, standing up and gesturing to Nick to stand up.  “Let’s see how much range of motion you actually have at the moment.  With your permission, I’m going to touch you now and try to manipulate your arm.  Is that okay?” he looked up at Nick for permission to continue.

 Nick warmed at the thought of him patiently waiting for him to give consent.  “Yes,” he said a little gruffly. “That’s ok. Whatever we need to do.” Kelly smiled at him before gently grasping his wrist with one hand and placing his other on the ball of his shoulder.  He gently manipulated the joint of Nick’s arm, trying to get him to extend it, straighen it, his voice murmuring quietly as he explained each step. Nick had a fine layer of sweat worked up by the time Kelly had finished.

 Carefully, Kelly finally released Nick before stepping back to jot down some notes on the intake forms.  “All right,” he said as he turned back to Nick. “As I see it, based on your input and our manipulation, you have sustained some damage to your rotator cuff.  If you were a professional athlete, your treatment plan would include corticosteroid shots in the joint, plus hydrotherapy, massage and a weightlifting regime, which would alleviate the pain and strength the muscles around the joint.  And in extreme cases, surgery.”

 “However,” he drawled with an impish look in his eye, “since you’re a low paid city employee and not a multi-million dollar athlete destined to lead the franchise to the pennant, we’re gonna scale that back a little bit.”

 “Ouch,” Nick fake gasped.  “I don’t rate major league treatment?  Harsh, man.” He shook his head sorrowfully.

 Kelly laughed.  “Don’t worry, dude.  I promise to treat you right, regardless.  Your employee plan allows for 3 visits per injury.  I guess they figure if you need more than that, you should be considering surgery or meds.  Today, if you have the time for a treatment, we’ll do a massage, probably an hour’s worth. We need to relax the muscles around the joint before we can do any kind of reparative therapy.  The next session would also start with a massage, but shorter. Maybe 20 minutes. The rest of the hour we’d work on stretches and exercises to strengthen the arm. The final session you’ll definitely need to wear workout clothes so we can really put you through your paces.  How does that sound?”

 Frankly, just after the manipulation session they’d already done, Nick was ready to head home for a couple of slugs of Jack.  But he was more than ready to have the pain go away, so he gamely said, “Sure, sounds great,” as he nodded.

 Kelly observed him closely, probably noticing his less than enthusiastic agreement.  “Ok, then. Give me just a minute to write out the treatment plan and you can sign your consent.  After that, it’s onto the massage table.”

 Nick zone out for a few moments while Kelly wrote some more notes.  After signing the paperwork, Kelly gestured for him to enter one of the massage rooms.  Dark wallpaper, potted plants, heavy curtains all continued the cave-like decor. A radio softly played some sort of new age-y african instrumental song that just seemed to feature drums and bird calls.  Nick just gave Kelly an incredulous look.

 “What?” Kelly huffed.  “Not in touch with your feminine side?  I’ve done massages in here, and clients have never complained.”  He paused a beat before giving Nick a wink. “When we do this at my place, it’s the total gym experience - a stainless steel table with the bare minimum of padding in a room with 5 other tables, full lights on, sweaty gym smell, and probably 3 other guys farting as they try to do squats.  I suggest you appreciate the ambiance.”

 Nick barked a laugh at that.  Kelly beamed at him. “I need access to your back, shoulder, neck and arms.  I’m going to step out for a moment. I need you to remove your shirt and lay face down on the table underneath the blanket..  Pants on or off, whatever makes you feel comfortable. I’ll give you a minute or two and then come back, okay? Let me know if you need any help.”

 “Um, sure,” Nick agreed weakly.  Nudity of any kind had not been on his agenda today.  While he had breezed over his medical history, he hadn’t really expected to get nekkid.  The whip scars on his back weren’t something he usually brought up in casual conversation.  So far Kelly had seemed to have a knack for avoiding details that he didn’t want to talk about - hopefully that would continue.

 He undressed as quickly as he could basically one-handed.  After a small internal debate, he took off the pants. Wearing pants under the blanket would be annoying.  His black boxer briefs were fairly new and not hole-y. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Nick blushed a little at the realization that he had the same kind of mental conversations before dates - what to wear in case the evening progressed beyond dinner and movie.

 “Down boy,” he muttered.  Kelly was checking all his interests - good listener, sly humor, fit - plus, the nerdy glasses.  His military background meant he and Nick had similar life experiences. He’d absolutely would be interested in seeing him again on a date.  Or even just a hookup. But it was about to be really inappropriate to broach that subject lying face down on a table during a treatment that would be reported back to his boss.

 He settled down onto the table just as Kelly tapped on the door.  “Come in,” he called a little gruffly. Kelly bustled in and started checking supplies in the room.  “How ya doing? Too hot? Too cold? Anything I can do to make this more comfortable for you?”

 “Actually,” Nick replied.  “Can you turn off the new age music?  I’d rather have classical music or sports talk radio or just silence, to be honest.”  He looked up at him apologetically.

 Kelly barked a laugh.  “I dunno, man. I’m trying to relax you here.  The way the Sox are playing, I don’t think sports talk is the way to go.”  But he reached over and turned off the music.

 “Got any preference for scented oil?  I’ve got sandalwood, lavender,” he squinted at bottles in the low light, “fran…. Frangy…. Frangipani?”  Nick just gave him a wide-eye look. “Not into aromatherapy, I see. Noted. Unscented oil it is then.”

 “Ok,” he said, finally turning directly to Nick.  “Are ya ready kids?” Nick drolly replied, “Aye-aye, Captain.”

 Kelly gently drew the sheet down past Nick’s waist.  Nick heard his breath hitch a little bit. Shit. He forgot about the whip scars on his back.  One of the many specific details he had left out of their medical history conversation at the beginning of this.”  Kelly cleared his throat. “Your scars look old. Are they painful at all? If I apply pressure to them?” Nick softly answered, “No, they don’t hurt at all.”  The ‘now was clearly left unsaid. “Do what you need to do.”

“On a separate but related note,” Kelly said brightly, “your ink is magnificent!”   

 That lead to a spirited discussion about body art, while Kelly started rubbing Nick’s back with the oil in long strokes.  He kept up a constant stream of chatter, remarking on style and technique for all of Nick’s tatts, all the while slowly pushing down and out into Nick’s back.   From there, the conversation drifted to sports - whether football was overrated, whether the players from the Boston Bruins could beat the players from the Sox if they had to play a pick up game of basketball, and so forth.  All the while, Kelly’s hands moved slowly up and down Nick’s back.

 After about 15 minutes of this, Kelly had Nick roll over onto his back.  “Hopefully we’ve relaxed the large muscle groups, so now we can narrow the focus more to your arm and shoulder.  This will probably hurt a little before it gets better,” he said apologetically.

 Nick was feeling pretty relaxed at this point, actually.  He gave Kelly a thumbs up with his other hand.

 *Kelly rubbed lightly at first, slowly strengthening the grip of his fingers until the massage oil was starting to soak in. He traced his finger along the front of Nick’s shoulder. “This is the coracoacromial ligament. It holds together the coracoid process, the acromion –” He slid his finger along Nick’s collarbone, “and the head of the humerus,” he completed, rubbing in the rest of the oil on the ball of Nick’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s very painful.”

 “Uh-huh,” he murmured as the names just flowed through his ears. He concentrated instead on the warm hands on him.  His skin grew warm under Kelly’s hands as he continued to press against the shoulder muscles, rubbing, then smoothing, rubbing, then smoothing, working to push the lactic acid out of the area so the muscles could calm and rest.

 The motion was repetitive, but not as soothing as the backrub had been.  Nick closed his eyes, trying not to portray the extent of the pain, but the muscles of his jaw were jumping as he ground his teeth.

 Kelly lifted one hand under the man’s jaw, sliding his fingers along the back of his jawbone to rub at the juncture. “Relax,” he urged, trying to stop the uncomfortable-looking grinding. “You relax one place, tense up another,” he murmured.*

 Nick’s eyes popped open and he twitched at the unexpected touch.  Nick was kind of a big, intimidating guy. Most people did not get into his personal space if he didn’t want them to.  Getting close enough to touch his neck generally would only be reserved for family members or lovers.

 Kelly shushed at him, all the while rubbing small circles into the back of his neck.  He started humming a little as he did so, slowly changing up the motion to long strokes along the back of his neck.  Eventually he worked his way down Nick’s arm, more long, warm strokes. He even rubbed his hand, working the oil into every inch of skin, pulling on each finger, flexing each joint.  Nick resolutely stared up at the ceiling as he did so. The careful slide of Kelly’s skin against his own was erotic. If he closed his eyes, it was like the sensations were magnified.  But if he watched Kelly’s concentration while he was touching him, it was just as bad. He was afraid he would pop a boner at any minute. It was kind of heady to the focus of that much attention.

 Kelly finally reached for a towel and started to wipe off his hands.  He came over to Nick’s good side and gently helped him to sit up on the table.  He took another towel and slowly stroked down Nick’s neck, arm and back, trying to wipe off any excess oil.  

 “How ya doing,” he asked, “how’s the headspace?”  Nick quirked an eyebrow at him, carefully keeping the blanket strategically placed on his lap.  “Sometimes clients get so relaxed that it’s a little disorienting when they sit up too suddenly.  We don’t want to undo all our hard work by having clients face plant as they try to get dressed.” He winked.

 Nick just laughed.  “I think I’m good, man.”  

 “I’ll be the judge of that,” Kelly replied.  “Let’s see if we did any good with all this. Hold your arm out straight for me.”  With that, he led Nick through the same basic routine they had done in the other room.  

 “Ok, how do you feel?  Better? Worse? Your range of motion seems to be a little bit better now.  How does it feel to you?”

 Nick rotated his shoulder, feeling surprise at the reduction in stiffness.  It still hurt, but it just felt bruised instead of having a bear trap clamped down on it.  The surprise must have shown on his face because Kelly threw back his head and laughed. “Must be better.  You look like you just won a prize or something.” No, Nick thought, looking at him, not yet. But I’d like to.

 “So I’m gonna run down to my office and get you a couple of handouts of exercises to do between now and your next appointment, and you can go ahead and get dressed.  Ok? Be back in a minute.”

 Nick sat on the table for another moment, basking in how relaxed he felt, before he finally stood up and got dressed.  Kelly tapped on the door, just as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “So I’ve 3 handouts here of exercises I want you try.  The point isn’t to accomplish perfect form the first time, every time, 3 sets of 10. We want to warm up those muscles first, then spend time stretching them out.  I don’t care if you get a full extension first time, every time. It’s a build up process. But at least 10 minutes every day on these. Eventually I’m going to want you to work yourself up to 10 minutes twice a day.  Don’t try to push it to one 20 minute session, but keep it at two 10 minutes sessions. We don’t want to overstrain it again. That’s just going to set back your recovery, alright?”

 Nick looked over the handouts.  They were pretty self-explanatory, and a lot of it was stuff he had done during PT in the gyms.  “Got it, doc.” Kelly beamed at the moniker.

 He walked him out to the front of the salon.  “So same time next week? Is that good for you,” he asked.  Nick thought over his schedule. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.”

 “Great.  Next week we’ll be over next door at my place.  So a 20 minute massage to properly warm up the muscles, then we’ll go through these exercises and go from there.  So wear gym clothes. Sounds good?”

 “Yep,” Nick answered, grinning.  He stuck his hand to shake Kelly’s.  “Thanks for the appointment, doc. It was nice to meet you.”  Kelly grinned back at him as he shook his hand, “Same here, detective.  I look forward to working with you again.”

 Me too, Nick thought, as he waved goodbye and headed out to his car.  Another session with Kelly was definitely something to look forward to.

  


_Caught Running, page 93._

**Author's Note:**

> I finally used my Christmas spa gift card in April. There's not much to do while laying on the massage table other than to write stuff in my head (as one does). I thought of this as a Ty & Zane piece, but when I sat down to actually write it, it fit better with Nick and Kelly.
> 
> (The spa really was cowgirl chic with bling and the sitting area really was a dark cave of a room. I was side-eyeing everything pretty hard myself. I figured Nick would just have been horrified.)
> 
> The section separated by * * is almost word for word from Madeline Urban/Abigail Roux's Caught Running, page 93.
> 
> As usual, not beta'd.


End file.
